


Come Back, Be Here

by labeledbones



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labeledbones/pseuds/labeledbones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>. . .a series of increasingly desolate voicemails tossed back and forth across the country.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Back, Be Here

When Zach wakes up at 5 AM on a Sunday morning, the voicemail Chris has left him consists of about ten seconds of silence and then a very inebriated Chris saying, "You gotta come back, man. I'm losing my mind without you." And then it cuts off. 

Zach is half awake and calculating the time difference takes a few seconds. He thinks Chris is probably passed out somewhere, but he decides to try calling him anyway. The phone rings and rings and rings. He can see Chris sprawled diagonally across his bed, still in his clothes, all but drowning in his own drool. The voicemail he leaves is just: "You could come here." 

When Chris wakes up, he thinks it's maybe 10, but the clock tells him it's nearly 2 in the afternoon. He listens to Zach's four word voicemail and the pain in his head swells exponentially. 

He showers, has an omelette and half a dozen aspirin, waits for his body to feel less unhinged. It's 4 o'clock by the time he calls Zach back. He listens helplessly as it rings. He clenches his jaw and tries to will Zach to pick up. He doesn't. The voicemail he leaves says: "It'd be nice to have you home." 

When Zach's in a cab back to his apartment, New York is flying by a half cracked window. He breathes in cool summer air and feels contented. He's thinking about how he could stay here forever when he hears Chris' message. Something drops in his stomach.

His cab is barreling down Second Avenue and he briefly wonders, as he does at some point during any cab ride, if this might be the night he dies. He calls Chris' number and says 'fuck' under his breath when, of course, Chris doesn't answer. He sighs heavily into his voicemail and says: "Shit. Just say you miss me. Say those words." 

When Chris finally finds his one working phone charger, the first thing he hears is Zach sighing and he grins a little at the familiar frustration in that sound. But when he hears the rest of the message, the grin falters. 

He drinks four beers and then calls. He doesn't think to check the time until it's ringing and then he realizes it's 3 AM in New York. Unsurprisingly, Zach doesn't answer. He thinks about just hanging up, no voicemail this time. He'll just call back later, tomorrow sometime. But then Zach's telling him to leave one and "I'll get back to you." The phrase 'back to you' sticks itself to Chris' mind and won't leave, so Chris says: "I miss you. More than I- Anyway. Fuck. Answer you phone, asshole." 

When Zach wakes up again far too early to function and finds yet another voicemail, all he feels is sad. Just straightforward, simple sadness. It isn't sorrow or loneliness or anything. He's just sad. He feels like this sadness has been coming for a while. He's been slowly deflating and now he's just flat. 

He lies in bed for a long time, just thinking. What he thinks is that while plenty of things in his life make him happy, there is one source of joy for him and it's currently on the other side of the country buried somewhere inside a frustrating overgrown blonde child who can't just man up and say what he feels. The voicemail he leaves now (he's given up hope of ever actually talking to Chris again) is just: "I love you."

When Chris gets the courage to listen to Zach's voicemail (somehow he just knows it's something he needs to gather strength for), he's sitting on the front steps of his house drinking coffee and watching cars go by. It's early, the sun is still in the process of rising and he feels tired in all of the corners of his body. Zach says three words and Chris feels everything just stop. 

He goes for a walk around his neighborhood trying to clear his head or just shake off the nervous energy coursing through him. They've said it before, but always in some other context, usually it was a joke. This time the context is a series of increasingly desolate voicemails tossed back and forth across the country. There was something soft in Zach's voice when he said it that Chris can't remember ever hearing. Aside from that, he just _knows_ : it's different this time.

He's managed to walk nearly a mile away from his house and now that the sun is completely out, his skin feels hot. He stops at a street corner and dials Zach's number. He doesn't know what he'll say this time. He wants to say "I love you too" but he's honestly a little mad Zach beat him to it. Maybe he'll say "I'm in love with you" just to one up that asshole. But then Zach actually answers the phone with a warm "Hi," and Chris can hear the stretch of his smile and all he can say is, "Hi."


End file.
